


Paying the Debt

by HelenTheMoon



Series: In Which the World Makes No Sense [2]
Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games), BioShock Infinite
Genre: Gen, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Canon, References to Addiction, Spoilers, references to gambling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 20:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20699114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenTheMoon/pseuds/HelenTheMoon
Summary: Booker tries to turn his life for the better, and write about his tale. He has his doubts.





	Paying the Debt

In spite of the fact that he had closed the door straight into Robert Lutece’s face – and hopefully broke his nose as a result – the debt had not been miraculously wiped out. It was still on, and now that Booker had said “no”, the Pinketorns became more pressing than ever. However Booker had his mind dead set on the fact that this time around, it would be different. He could not see all the doors the way Elizabeth did; but he had been through enough of those to know that the consequences would be devastating, especially in the long run. The sight of New York burning while an old and desolate Elizabeth was watching in apathy would _never_ leave his eyes.

Yet the issue remained: he had to find a way to pay his dept. And what better way to start than to reduce his expenses. Which meant no more smoking and drinking. Easier said than done. A person could never truly realize how addictive those things were – smoking especially – until they tried stopping. Taking it gradually had turned out not to be such a good idea either. And the whole “cutting” thing became even more difficult when Booker realized that he still had access to his Vigors. How in the world was _that_ possible, he had no idea – perhaps his brain had gotten to used to them – but years as a soldier and a detective had only served to fuel than paranoid side in him that screamed that he would need them, and therefore he would need Salts, And Salts could only be found in alcohol and cigars.

Booker, with a lot of effort, eventually managed to push his paranoia aside and convince himself that his Shield was all he would need in his line of work. Besides, he had enough Salts in his body already from the years of bad habits. Did not make cutting the habit any easier. However his budget saw a significant improvement.

Another issue had been income. Being a detective meant that in order to be paid, someone with a huge problem at hand would need his services, and Booker could not wait for the miracle client. He needed a means to earn money as soon as possible. Hence the dilemma: gamble or not gamble?

Gambling was how Booker had ended up being in such a gigantic debt in the first place; and yet it was the only way to make quick money. Of course finding a job was vital as well, nut his biography including a violent soldier career, a not so successful detective career and a lot of time traveling (not that he would ever mention _that_ to anyone), who would possibly hire him?

In the end, a job offer came to him from the most unexpected from places. Some mid-class restaurant was in need of a musician, and apparently Booker’s skill with the guitar filled the bill. Who would have thought that that little hobby would come in handy… Booker had been reluctant at first, seeing that he was not much of a singer, but the income was pretty good for the job, and it was a nice change of pace from his usual violent jobs. Booker wondered what Elizabeth would think of this. He hoped that she would like it. She always had a thing for music, after all.

As for gambling, Booker well… gambled by not gambling. Every time before he proceeded to take part in any of the betting pools or games, he would flip a coin. If it landed on Heads, it meant that there were more chances of losing money and/or messing with the wrong people. If it landed on Tails, it meant that he had more chances not to screw up and perhaps even have a lucky streak. In fact, that was how he had found the job at the restaurant in the first place.

Booker was pretty sure that somewhere in the Infinite the Lutece “twins” were watching him in amusement; Booker flipping coins to predict his future. It was ironic in so many levels – Comstock had used the Tears to see the future and eventually _did_ gain that ability, and here Booker was using the his own knowledge in combination with the Lutece coin flip to choose between a certain but doomed future and an uncertain but hopeful one. Booker found that he preferred the latter.

His newest gambling habit of “asking for directions” before putting in a bid turned out to be a good idea in the long run. His general performance in the casino had improved, slowly but surely gathering money for him and his daughter. In spite of his recent success however, Booker was determined to drop gambling as soon as his dept was manageable. He did not want to risk being ruined by it again.

Now there was only one more thing that needed to be done.

* * *

As soon as he got to the baptism part, Booker knew that this book would be as confusing as hell. Booker was not an author, he had never tried to really write anything other than a report or a letter before, and here he was, trying to explain some of reality’s most confusing concepts and introducing Columbia and its history to any potential readers.

And there were parts in the book that would shake said readers too deeply. The vision of that future New York burning was too much even for him. The patriot worshiping religion was a subject that generated great conflict in Columbia, causing boundless discrimination amongst the residents of Columbia as it raised questions on where does each person stand in the world – not to mention the hubris of men being worshiped as gods, all in the name of racial purity. The astounding technology made Booker fear the possibility of someone copying it; who knew what would the world come to if everyone suddenly could shoot fire and lightning, or take control of other people. As for the Luteces… It too no brainer to figure that in this reality Robert Lutece is considered a lunatic by the rest of the scientific community. A science “fiction” mystery book which’s plot revolved all around quantum physics was bound to attract more than just a few strange looks.

And let’s not forget their senseless banter.

Booker DeWitt however was determined to finish the book. He felt the need to tell the story _somehow_, tell it to the Luteces, to the Pinketorns, to Cornelius Slate, to _anyone_. He wanted them all to know that _nobody_ would take Anna away from him. And who knows, perhaps someone will like the book and Booker would get some money out of it.

When it came down to the book, Booker was being a perfectionist. He was constantly making sure that all descriptions of the wonders and horrors of Columbia were down to the spot, all vox-phones and dialogues recorded down to the letter, the feeling of using Vigors and having multiple realities in your head described to the best of his ability, all fights were as graphic as it could go – Booker saw no point in trying to censor violence. He gave special attention to describing how the _people_ were, to give the readers a true insight on the personality of every single individual. Especially Elizabeth. God, how much he missed her.

It took forever for the book to be finished, even though it was no more than a few months in reality. Booker made sure he had not missed _anything_. No even stuff he was not supposed to know simply because of the date. And as confusing as the final result was, Booker was satisfied. He ended his story at the moment right before he leaned over Anna’s crib. Let the readers not know the ending. He did not regret it. It did not matter.

Yet there was still a loose end. Something that was amiss. Something that was never explained – not as in, the explanation was too confusing, but there was never an explanation for it in the first place.

_“A city at the bottom of the ocean? Huh! Ridiculous.”._

Booker had been in many eerie places, but that city without a question took the cake. _Rapture._ The glorious metropolis that was so alike the future New York, stinking with blood and decay, protest signs of people begging to leave scattered everywhere, strange posters and a silence so deafening you could hear your own heartbeat. They had even found a corpse somewhere. And that banner he noticed somewhere… _“No gods, no kings, only man.”_. The exact opposite of Columbia. And all that time he was here, Booker could not shake the feeling that he was being watched, that a version of himself had been here before. Just what had happened to this city?

It was a mystery that could not be solved by him, and Booker had accepted the fact. His was someone else’s tale to tell.

One day, Booker found a package on his desk. No address, no names. However, there was a picture of a bird drawn on it. It contained a book. _“BioShock, by Jack Ryan.”_.

Originally Booker wanted to name his book _“Infinite”_. But now, he knew what was missing from the title.


End file.
